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Chapter one

Liam

S ome nights you’re looking for trouble. Other nights, trouble finds you dressed in designer masks and offering to wreck you six ways from Sunday.

This rinky-dink Florida town’s got more surprises than a playoff overtime—like finding a members-only sex club tucked behind Canyon Bay’s shiny new downtown development—and apparently I’m on the guest list.

But here I am, about to discover what happens when small-town money tries to buy big-city sins. Lipstick on a goddamn pig.

Even more pathetic? It’s a perfectly good Saturday night, and I could’ve been anywhere else. But curiosity’s a persistent little bitch, and tonight I didn’t have it in me to ignore it.

The invite said masks. Mine’s black. Plain. Doing the bare minimum while everyone else looks like a damn costume shop exploded. All that glitter and gold, like they think that it makes this classy instead of desperate.

A few guys keep it simple, like me. Low effort, no shine. Just here for one thing, and it isn’t small talk.

I haven’t been laid in months. Not for lack of options—hell, I could crook a finger and have someone on their knees within the hour.

But hockey’s a demanding wench who owns everything.

My time. My body. My fucking soul. Between getting my face rearranged, back-to-backs, reporters circling like vultures, and the constant threat of getting benched, sex is just another sacrifice.

Right next to sleep, sanity, and the fantasy that I’m more than just a weapon on skates.

And, honestly, that kind of easy doesn’t do it…Not anymore.

That’s why I’m here…something simple. Masked, No names. No strings.

So why the fuck am I three minutes in and already counting the ways out?

I heard about this place from someone on the team. Figured it might shake something loose. But so far, it’s just smoke and mirrors—shiny masks, fake laughs, bodies orbiting like no one wants to make the first real move.

As for me, I’m just here trying not to fuck up the only chance I’ve got left.

Got traded—again. Just a chess piece moved around until my position serves someone else.

Not me, but the team. The owners. I know the drill.

From a decent lineup with the Reapers to this Fucked up Florida franchise nobody cares about unless they’re winning, which they’re not.

But this…this is it. My last shot to prove I’m more than just a liability with a bad rep, before my reputation completely fucks me over.

“Your mask is crooked,” a melodic voice cuts through my thoughts.

I turn to find its source and immediately forget why I was bored.

With her mask hiding most of her face, all I can see are soft lips I know would feel fucking incredible against mine and a slender neck practically begging for my teeth.

Dirty blonde sun-kissed hair cascades down her shoulders.

The shadow of her mask conceals her eyes, but I’m already hooked.

“Surprised you didn’t try to sneak a peek, to see more of me.” I say, adjusting my mask. “Finding someone who can handle what I have to offer, all covered up like this, is like hunting for buried treasure blindfolded.”

Her lips curl into a smirk. “What makes you think I want to see more of you?”

Her teasing tone hits something primal in me. So far, I’ve been here an hour, and it’s been a fucking snoozefest. But this woman—she’s trouble.

“So,” she continues. “Are you here with anyone? Friends? Girlfriend?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “If you want my undivided attention, just say so. I’m excellent at multitasking.”

She lets out this sharp little laugh—and hell if it doesn’t get under my skin in the best fucking way.

Most women I deal with play nice, nod along, eager to please.

It’s too easy. Too much control. And yeah, I’ve abused that more than once.

But these masks? They mess with the usual game.

Strip away the edge. Maybe that’s why the guys thought I needed this.

Because on or off the ice, I don’t back down from a challenge—and this woman? She’s pressing all the right buttons.

“Is that so?” she asks, her eyes dropping before slowly sliding up my body.

I smirk at her obvious appraisal, fighting the urge to puff out my chest like some Neanderthal. I know I’m in great shape—I wouldn’t last on the ice otherwise. But it’s one thing to know you look good and another to have someone confirm it. I let my own gaze wander, taking in every curve.

She’s not tall, but she doesn’t need to be. My eyes drop and stay put—tits straining against fabric like they’re begging to be freed. I want my hands on them. Want those legs wrapped around me while I fuck her senseless. When I look up, gray eyes are watching me watch her. I don’t look away.

“Are you interested?” I gesture toward the chatter I came from. “Or should I escort you back to the party?”

We both know exactly what we’re here for. And neither of us is apologizing for it.

When she walks toward me, my dick kicks with interest. Her boldness is the best kind of torture. When she’s finally close enough for me to feel her body heat, I take a deep breath and let my hand drift to her hip. Her hands rest against my chest, and I know tonight’s going to be fucking amazing.

I just hope this boldness follows us to the bedroom.

“I think we should have a party all our own,” she says, her voice dropping an octave. “Unless... you’re all talk?”

Challenge fucking accepted.

I grip her hips and pull her tight against me.

The softness of her breasts makes me dizzy, and when there’s not even room for air between us, I breathe her in.

There’s something innocently sweet about her scent that makes me want to wreck her until all she can smell is me.

This territorial need is new—normally, I don’t give a shit about who a woman’s been with before or after me.

But right now, I want to make sure when she’s with someone else, all she remembers is the burn of my touch and the feeling of me deep inside her.

“I talk well enough,” I say, moving toward a door I spotted earlier.

I know it has a bed and everything we might need—condoms, lube, maybe a whip or two.

I enjoy my kinks, but right now, all I want is to see her pretty mouth stretched around my cock and hear her moans when I sink inside her.

“But nothing compared to how I back it up.”

“I suppose I’ll see if that’s true,” she replies, eyes darkening.

“I’ll be supremely disappointed if you put all this to waste.” She gestures at my body.

“Trust me, sweetheart,” I growl, “if you walk out of here on steady legs, I’ll be the most disappointed man in Florida.”

Her breathing quickens as she bites her bottom lip. Her tongue peeks out to wet it.

I follow the motion before claiming her lips.

Some women like a slow build of little kisses, but I’m not built for slow.

I fuck like I play— hard and rough. I want my memory to haunt her thoughts when I’m gone.

I push the door open and guide her backward, shutting it firmly behind us.

Slick sounds fill the air as I grasp those dirty blonde curls that catch the low light.

The room is dimly lit, creating the perfect atmosphere for what’s coming.

The only sounds are our heavy breathing and fabric rustling as we strain against each other— until I hear it.

A soft moan scratching from her throat.

It sends electricity down my spine as I turn us until her back hits the wall.

“Getting loud on me already, sweetheart?” I tease, sliding my fingers through her silky waves.

When her pupils dilate and her breath hitches as I tighten my grip— I know I’ve struck gold.

The way her eyes widen makes me wonder if she’s ever felt this before.

I don’t trick myself into thinking she’s some virgin, but her uninhibited response to my rougher touches feels raw and genuine.

“No,” she whispers, sending heat through my veins. “Not yet.”

I tighten my grip on her hair and slowly pull her head back, exposing her throat.

I don’t take my eyes off her as I press soft kisses against her bared skin.

Her hands grip my shoulders desperately, nearly pulling a groan from me.

“You will be,” I promise darkly, loving her little shivers.

I press myself harder against her, pushing her thighs apart to fit mine between them.

Her dress is tight, and I hitch it up, not giving a fuck about the fabric.

“Looks perfect on you, sweetheart, but now it’s in my way.”

My hand burns a trail up her thigh until it cups her bare ass.

I arch an eyebrow as I discover the thin strap of her thong.

I glance down, eyeing the dark red material with its rough edges, and lift it to snap against her skin, loving the sound.

“These are surprising.”

“Why?” she asks, drawing my attention back to her kiss-bruised lips.

“You don’t know what underwear I like. You don’t know me at all.”

She’s right. I don’t know much about her personality, her likes, or even what she does for work.

But I do know how fucking good she sounds with my tongue in her mouth.

Instead of responding, I grip her thigh roughly, pulling it up against my hip before diving back between her lips.

The kiss is fast and electric.

I nibble her bottom lip, loving how she jerks each time even as her tongue presses against mine in a sensual dance.

The wall works fine, but I’m not risking a back injury before the season starts with acrobatic bullshit.

Without letting go, I walk backwards until I feel the bed against my knees.

“Let’s get you out of this,” I say, eyeing her dress as I push it from her shoulders.

Near the bed, the lighting is better.

Dirty blonde hair frames a heart-shaped face, and her lips are red and swollen.

She doesn’t fight me removing the material, but grabs it before it falls completely.

“I borrowed this from a friend… she’d be pissed if I let it get trampled.”

I huff a low laugh as she clutches the dress like it’s armor.

Tough on the outside, sure.

But there’s a softness under that spark— something unguarded she didn’t mean to show me.

I shouldn’t notice.

Shouldn’t care.

But I know one thing—

This isn’t the kind of trouble you walk away from.